Sisters of Heart
by oh.holy.martel
Summary: What next book would be like if it existed ... The next set of kings, the truce coming to an end, and unlikely friendship and two kings looking for brides ... Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Laura stopped, panting from exertion

Laura stopped, panting from exertion. She had been going through the forest for a while, and was dead tired. So far, the only good thing about Hallow Hill was the woods. Here it seemed like the world was timeless, a place where technology and the people who invented it had never existed and would never exist. She sat down against the rough bark of an oak tree, taking off her backpack and fishing out her sketchbook. Without thinking she began sketching the thin, arching lines of the trees, the way the dappled shadows hit the forest floor.

Suddenly she started. The light was grayer now, and as she stretched the painful tingling in her arms and legs let her guess how long she been sitting there. This happened to her often, when she was drawing. She lost all sense of time or place and didn't even know what she'd drawn until she looked at it after. Her picture today, however, looked pretty straightforward. Except . . .

In one of the patches of shadow, there was a pair of eyes. They were perfectly symmetrical, wary and feral but somehow timid and innocent from all to be found in the outside world. Looking at them, Laura had absolutely no idea where she'd gotten the eyes from. She shivered, suddenly a little apprehensive about all the secrets this ancient forest might contain.

Laura shoved her sketchpad back in her bag and stood, starting to walk and wincing at the stiffness in her legs. She cast the ever-darkening shadows anxious glances, and had never been so glad to see the manor. There were a few strands of ivy, so dark they were almost black in the fading light, that had begun to climb the walls again. She'd heard that there had been whole walls covered with it before her Great-Aunt Til's time, but she had ordered them cleaned. Laura personally liked the ivy, thought it made it look like someplace long forgotten by the rest of the poking and prodding and spoiling world.

She slipped in the door to her room, one of the extravagant glass ones from the new wing. It was handy for getting in unnoticed, especially by Uncle John's nasty brat of a son, Gerald. Aunt Sally was nice, though, and she hardly ever spent any time at the manor anyway. The forest was better, no one besides her ever went in there except for Uncle John.

Laura crossed over and looked at herself in the mirror, hair tangled and a leaf sliver poking out of one strand. She sighed. It would be better to brush after a shower, surely …

"Laura! Time for dinner!" Aunt Sally called from somewhere deep in the manor. "Make sure to wash up!"

Laura groaned, plucked the bit of leaf out of her hair, and slipped into the adjacent bathroom to wash her hands. She took a last look at her room, the light turned off, and shut the door. The dining room was in another part of the house, so she had a while to go.

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Sela watched the girl through the bushes, puzzled. She looked human, like Sika had been, but what was she doing here? Humans never came into the forest. Du Ramr said that most humans were stupid, polluting beasts, but this one didn't look like it. She was pretty, with pale skin and dark hair, and looked almost like an elf if Sela hadn't known better. Her clothes were typical human, though, looked like torture devices in those blue things … elves weren't even allowed to wear blue. But the way she looked over her paper, how her hand stroked the lines … it was a type of magic all its own. Sela wanted to know more about this strange human.

But for now her fear kept her back in the bushes, peering out. Du Ramr said that humans must not know they exist at all costs, that they destroyed everything they couldn't understand. And now that Du Ramr—now _Aganir_ Du Ramr, she reminded herself—was king, his word was law. The playmate she grown up with had turned into a stranger overnight.

The human girl stirred, seemed to be coming out of her reverie. Sela slipped back into the shadows, gathering her berry basket along the way. She fled back to the singing and laughter of the elf camp, unable to get that quiet form out of her mind.

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Marak Eaglewing, the son of Marak Catspaw, now recently deceased, flexed his wings and sighed. Things were at a delicate stage with both his father and the king of the elves having died, the truce was officially over. But the elves and goblins had formed many friendships, and he doubted that his men would be very happy about going to war with their friends.

If not for the age old problem, Marak would have been perfectly content to let the truce stand, but he must do what was best for the goblin people … and that meant an elf bride. And he somehow doubted that the new, hot-blooded elven king would stand for that. He sighed. Everything had been going so well …


	2. Chapter 2

Forks clinked on plates as

Forks clinked on plates as the family ate in silence, Laura staring into the arrogant face of her cousin. He grinned at her with his mouth full, exposing a mouthful of steak and potatoes that made her wince.

"Gerald," Uncle John said reprovingly. "Manners at the dinner table."

He closed his mouth and swallowed reluctantly. "When do we get to go to town, Daddy?" he complained. "There's nothing to do here."

"I'm afraid we can't go this summer. There's some urgent business I must attend to." Uncle John's face grew suddenly grim.

Gerald settled his face into a pout. "Why can't we? This place is the pits, and all my friends are in town … besides, you promised when I came home from school!"

Uncle John's face grew dark with a barely controlled anger. "We are not going to town this summer," he yelled, "and that's final!"

There was silence after that, and Laura finished her meal as quickly as she could. Visions of her old dinner table rose unbidden, the cheery yellow tablecloth and spaghetti her mom had made, fan buzzing overhead and the sound of laughter …

When she got back to her room the sky was already dark and the stars were out, twinkling high above. The constellations were different from here, and the stars seemed brighter. They called out to be looked at through the clear panes of glass, and Laura felt an almost uncontrollable urge to go outside and … and _dance_. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she turned on the shower and waited for it to get warm. With all the weird things that were happening in this backwards little place, she needed a long hot shower. And a ticket back to her house.

_My house doesn't have anyone living in it now, and won't until I'm of age. For all intents and purposes, this _is_ my home,_ she thought bitterly. Why her mother and father had to go on that stupid plane trip …

She shook her head angrily. What was past was past, and thinking about it wouldn't help. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the rivulets of hot water course down her face and wash away the anxieties and fear of another day.

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Aganir Du Ramr, the elf king named Winter Storm, bent his head over his hands and sighed. He could hear the tinkling sound of his elves' laughter, the faint swish of their dresses as they danced and frolicked. Du Ramr himself could not, having to contend himself with the kingdom business. With his father's and the goblin king's death, the truce was now officially broken. He knew that the new king, Marak Eaglewing, would need a bride, and he could never sanctify one of his women for that. To be forever trapped beneath the earth with those monstrosities, never to see the stars again or breath the fresh night air …

He shuddered. And thinking of brides, what to do for his own was another problem. He needed to find one to have an heir and preserve the king's lineage, but there just weren't that many humans that had the right qualities for a King's Wife. He'd heard that there was a new girl at the Hall, though, he'd have to look into that …

His thoughts were interrupted by a light nudge on the shoulder. He looked up. It was his best friend Hawthorn, also his second-in-command. "Come on, Ramr! Time for a break before those forehead lines of yours become permanently etched on!"

Du Ramr groaned. "I don't have time for playing, Thorn. There's work to be done."

"Like what?" Hawthorn asked. Seeing his friend's expression, he said, "Besides, you can come hunting with me. We need meat, you know. It's work too. And you need a break."

Du Ramr sighed and ran his fingers through his coppery curls, the first ever to be held by an elf. "Well, I suppose … just for a while, though, I need to figure out what to do with the truce ending."

"Now come on, oh King. Time for you to remember what being an elf is all about."

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Laura woke up early and begged some breakfast and provisions for lunch from the cook, a matronly woman who had a soft spot for her. She didn't need another "family meal" anytime soon after the one last night. It wouldn't be good to run into Gerald, either, since he was in a foul mood after the announcement last night and was currently stomping around the house in a state of high dudgeon.

She grabbed her bag, sketchbook still in it from yesterday, and slipped out the glass door of her room into the beckoning wilderness, ready to do some more exploring. She wandered around, trying to find the druid circle she'd heard about. Laura didn't have any luck, but it was so nice in the woods that until her stomach rumbled she hadn't realized how hungry she was.

She sat down to eat and munched on her apple, eating half of her pint-sized bread loaf and, following a strange impulse, left the other half on a strange flat rock. Laura, feeling lazy and not quite ready to get up and hike some more, stretched out with her back to the tree and pulled out her sketchpad. She accidentally flipped to the page of her last picture, the eyes standing out in sharp relief in the dark shadows. _Eyes,_ she thought. _Now where_ _have I seen those eyes …_

And she promptly fell into a deep, oblivious sleep.

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Sela woke at twilight, stirring as she blinked and tried to adjust to so much light. The girl beside her stirred and let out a little sigh, and Sela was seized with a sudden desire to get out of the cramped, hot tent. She extricated herself with difficulty, holding open the flap and slipping out like a ghost into the just-falling night.

The King's Camp was still deep in slumber, everything unnaturally quiet. The firepits were black with the stain of ash, and a slight breeze stirred the cloth of the tents. Sela, looking out at the stillness, felt a thrill course through her at being the only one awake. She decided on a whim to go see if that human was wandering the forest again, maybe get a closer look. Without a backward glance she slipped out of camp and into the shadowed forest.

Sela found her easily enough, sleeping against a tree near the truce circle. She murmured in her sleep and her head shifted slightly, enough for her drawing to become visible. It was the forest as she saw it, with shadows and—she gave a start—a pair of eyes. Her eyes. This was an unusual human indeed.

Scanning the area, Sela saw some strange-looking bread sitting on a rock. She picked it up and took an experimental bite, feeling its lightness. The human method of baking must be strange indeed.

Still holding the piece of bread she went back over to the girl, examining her more closely. What she saw both excited her and frightened her the tiniest bit. The girl was slender like herself, with a shade of dark brown so close to black she could hardly tell it apart from her own hair. Sela reached forward slowly and brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

The human stirred, blinking as Sela drew back in surprise. Her mind raced frantically. If Du Ramr or her brother found out, she would be in so much trouble … The girl's eyes, set in her pale face, were a blue as dark as midnight and as round and wide as saucers. Sela tensed, unsure of how she would react. Then, slowly and beautifically, she smiled.

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Laura felt something feather-light brush her cheek and stirred, coming out of a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and stared straight into the face of a beautiful and feral girl that was looking at her frozenly, her body tensed as if to flee. She had a regal bearing and impossibly perfect good looks, none of which was the reason Laura froze. It was her eyes. _The eyes,_ she realized in shock, _that are in my sketch. _

And then, as Laura caught sight of what the girl was holding in her hand, she smiled. She couldn't help it. For, in her hand, was the piece of bread she'd whimsically left on the rock.

With that, the tension was broken. The other girl let a timid smile spread over her face and said, in careful English, "You live at the Hall, yes?"

"Yes," Laura agreed. "Are you from around here? I don't think I've seen you before, but your eyes are exactly like the ones in my drawing. I'm Laura, by the way."

"My name is Sela and I am from around here, yes," Sela leaned, forward, her expression thrilled and the just the tiniest bit fearful. "Would you like to hear a story? One of the local legends?"

"Yes," Laura replied, leaning forward a bringing her knees up so she could rest her chin on them. She eyed Sela and waited. Laura _knew_ there had to be some sort of magic about this place, untouched by both the ravages of time and humanity.

"Well, there are legends about these forests and hills, involving races older than humanity themselves. They were created by the First Fathers, who wished to make a race of their own. But the Fathers could not agree. The First Father of the elves wanted his children to have only what was beautiful, and to live their lives with ease and plenty. The First Father of the goblins thought that a strong tooth or claw should be used, and made his race take strength in their ugliness. That was how the elves and goblins came to be made.

"Both the elves and goblins have a King, and they both are cursed in the fact that they cannot marry of their race. The goblins typically married elves"—here a shudder passed over her face—"and dragged them below ground, never to see the stars again. Goblins live underneath Hollow Hill in their kingdom, and made frequent raids for brides. The elf king, however, had to marry a human girl. Both races were constantly at war with the conflict that dated back to the First Fathers, beauty or strength. The goblins raided for brides, and the elves fought back.

"But then an extraordinarily weak elf king came, Aganir U-Sakkar. His marriage was sterile, and after his bride killed herself—which she shouldn't have been able to do—he never remarried, and died in an accident his magic should have prevented.

"The goblins harassed the elves mercilessly after that, and their future looked bleak. Finally the two races met in battle one fair day, and the elves perished. There were scattered pockets left, but it seemed any hope for the once-great race to become powerful again was lost. But then a new king came, Aganir Ash, the descendant of the true king. Aganir U-Sakkar had been an unwitting impostor, which explained why everything had happened.

"And now the elves are strong once more, to hold their own against the goblins. There is a new king, a strong king. The goblins have a new king, too, and they are both as of yet unmarried." There was a momentary hush as she came to the end of her tale.

Laura was silent for a long moment. "You seem to know a lot more about this than any local legend could cover," she said thoughtfully. And then, with a seriousness bordering on solemnity, asked, "Sela, do you know so much about this because you're part of it?"

"Yes," she said gravely, her eyes wide with fear and excitement. "I am an elf."


	3. Chapter 3

Sela watched fearfully as Laura blinked, ingesting the knowledge, and then said, "Well, that figures

Sela watched fearfully as Laura blinked, ingesting the knowledge, and then said, "Well, that figures. No mere human could be as beautiful as you." Her eyes warmed and she smiled at Sela. "Thank you for telling me."

"You mean, you believe me? You don't think I'm mad or a freak or anything like that?" Sela's voice contained more fear than it should. She had barely met Laura and already feared losing her friendship.

"Of course I believe you," Laura said warmly. "What reason would you have to lie to me? Besides, what else could you be?" She laughed, a sound like the tinkling of bells. It sounded eerily elvish.

"I am grateful," Sela said, feeling oddly formal in response to Laura's easily accepting demeanor. Looking into her friend's eyes, Sela realized that they were even prettier than she had originally thought. Within the seemingly endless dark blue depths, she could see silver sparkles, dancing and shimmering. She didn't know humans could have sparkles like that in their eyes.

"Sela?" Laura asked timidly. "Could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure," Sela said with out thinking, regretting it immediately. What if she wanted to see their camp? Or for her to do magic? She felt like an animal in a trap, defenselse and waiting for someone to come along and kill it.

"I want to draw you," said Laura softy.

Sela relaxed in obvious relief. "Of course you can draw me," she said. "Do you want me to stand a certain way?"

"Just stand by that tree over there," Laura instructed, sounding distinctly businesslike. "Let your hair fall over one side of your face, and either eat that piece of bread or put it somewhere, please."

"Yes, o artist," she said, fake curtsying. "This good?"

"Perfect," Laura said, bringing her pencil down for the first arching stroke. "Just perfect."

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Laura tilted her drawing so Sela, peering over her shoulder, could see better. Sela gasped. "It's perfect," she whispered in wonder.

And, indeed, it _was_ a perfect likeness. Laura had captured the easy grace of her form, the wild bit of her who wanted to be roaming beneath the sky, the regality that flamed in her dark eyes. Laura herself didn't know how she'd done it. She squinted to try to see it better, and realized that night had fallen while she'd been drawing.

Sela started, realizing the same thing. "Oh—I'll be missed—I have to get back to camp—if my brother comes looking for me, he might discover—"

"Oh!" Laura began hurriedly packing away her sketchpad, zipping her bag and scrambling to her feet. "Aunt Sally will be so worried—I've got to get home—"

"I will meet you tomorrow," Sela said, an inch from disappearing into the forest. "Twilight. I'll find you. Until then, farewell."

"Um, sure," Laura said, but Sela was gone, back into the mystical world from whence she came. If not for the picture and the half eaten bread slice lying on the ground several feet away, Laura might have doubted that she existed at all. She cast one last look at the clearing and headed for home, preparing herself for the inevitable lecture.

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Sela slipped back into camp, noting with relief that both her brother and Du Ramr were absent. Out hunting, probably. But never mind that, she had an idea that needed planning.

Sela walked over to the weavers, elven women who worked for the joy of it. "Mistress Weaver?" she asked, stopping a respectful distance away. The elf woman turned her ageless, unlined face to her and smiled.

"What is it, Sela? It isn't time for your winter clothes yet," she said, a small frown marring her perfect features.

"No," she said. "But I was wondering if you could make another set … for a friend of mine?"

"I'd have to get her measurements," Mistress Weaver said doubtfully, still pulling out thread from beneath her fingers. "Who is this friend of yours again? And why doesn't she just come and ask me herself?"

"I want it to be a surprise, Mistress Weaver," Sela said imploringly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "But her measurements are the same as mine."

"All right, I'll make it," she said indulgently, her suspicions forgotten. "I'll have it ready in a few hours, so run along now. I'll send someone for you when it's finished."

"Thank you, Mistress Weaver," Sela said fervently, before turning and fleeing to the protection of her playmates.

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Du Ramr glanced up absently as Sela flashed by, her dark curls streaming behind her like a banner. What was she up to? Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her in a while. Hmm. He'd have to ask Hawthorn, see how well he was keeping track of his little sister.

Du Ramr sighed. They'd been close when they were little, all three of them, and if he hadn't been the king's son he probably would have married her. As it was, things had gotten increasingly awkward between them since his father's death, and he hadn't talked to her in days. She used to be the best listener …

He mentally shook himself. A good king must not dwell on the past, but act I the present. Which reminded him, he needed to take a look at that human girl, see if she would make a good bride. He would leave immediately.

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Du Ramr paused at the hill in front of the manor, casting a quick spell to determine which room she slept in. His magic told him that she was in one of the outward-facing rooms in the new wing, which was convenient. He ran over, with all the litheness and grace of his race.

He peered through the window, able to discern a mass of dark hair. This would require a closer look. He tried the door, which was unlocked, and slipped in. He crossed quickly over to the girl on the bed, who, when he looked at her face, made him let out an involuntary gasp. Sela! For a moment he thought it was her, then realized that the girl just had her dark hair, pale skin, and slender frame, enough resemblance to be confused.

Impulsively Du Ramr reached out to brush a lock of hair out of her face. She stirred and muttered, murmuring a name. "Sela," she said, before turning over and falling back into a deeper sleep. Why had she said Sela? This would definitely be a matter for further consideration …


End file.
